


Shadows through latticework

by Mallorn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallorn/pseuds/Mallorn
Summary: An imperial ball, and too little excitement in his controlled life as a very respectable governor. Tarkin is a gentleman on the prowl. PWP.





	1. The Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a lot more romantic than I had planned, so sorry (not) for the excessive sighing and blushing. I blame the setting – what else was I to do with gentlemen officers on a ball? Tarkin, of course, still claims to resent such things.
> 
> Intended as a reader-insert, but written in the 3rd person for variety’s sake.

Tarkin sighed, already fed up with both the proceedings on the dance floor and the ridiculously refined refreshments. Simply seeing them offered in such an abundance threatened to turn his stomach. It was beyond him how pleasure could be gained from over-indulging on pretentious, over-priced morsels, not to mention witnessing the wastefulness of resources the dishes implied.  At least two hours remained until he could reasonably take his leave.

He so very rarely attended these affairs nowadays. They tended to be uninteresting at most, but more often simple tiring, at the same time as they seldom failed to interrupt his habits and make it difficult to sleep afterwards. In the past, imperial balls used to be a stimulating pastime, legal hunting grounds for picking up plucky young things likewise looking for distraction. It took more to entertain him these days. There were offers, surely, but times had changed. There was no respect for experience, no true appreciation for an older gentleman. If his rank insignia could dance, then he could have left his plaque to fulfil his duties, and retire from this tiresome function, ridding himself of all the empty gazes and insincere smiles. He would stay, naturally. The Grand Moff could not be seen leaving the Emperor’s ball early.

For the umpteenth time, his gaze wafted towards the open doors leading to the balcony.

***

Dancing was a pleasure, she reflected as she bid her latest cavalier farewell and politely declined the next prospective one, before demonstratively busying herself at a table with sweets. She needed to catch her breath and it was high time to consider her options. That is, if she was still serious about her plans for the night. She had come here with the explicit goal of getting laid. Not usually so brazen, simply admitting it to herself made her cheeks heat. But it was true; it had been too long now, and she craved the thrill of being hunted and eventually surrendering.

The obvious choice danced by, smiling amicably at the gorgeous blonde in his arms that just stared at him with fascination and awe. Everyone wanted Director Krennic.

She had admired him as a teen, finding him dashing at first, charming and cosmopolitan. She had come to desire him at a far too young age for the infatuation to be entirely tasteful. Now that he was within reach, she almost found him ridiculous with his exaggerated manners and bombastic plans. He was obviously smitten with himself.

Besides, he was easy. Everyone knew that. According to rumour, all one had to do was to brush innocently against his crotch, and it was guaranteed to get you bent over a random piece of furniture in under five minutes. The idea made her smile with mirth - even Krennic would need longer than that to find an empty room and… but then, maybe not. The man’s vicious passion was as legendary as his insatiability. And he was so handsome! Being bedded by him was an appealing thought, but it lacked originality. There’d be no challenge in that, she decided wistfully.

She needed someone less obvious… someone less horny, less intent to be ruled by impulses. An attractive, older gentleman, perhaps. What she wanted was to be taken under the wings of someone who could at least pretend to keep a cultured conversation for more than a minute at a time without immediately trying to get underneath her skirt. Even if that was exactly what she was looking for tonight.

Someone who would make her feel desired, but be clever enough to tease her. She wanted to be enticed and seduced, rather than straight off conquered.

***

Tarkin pursed his lips and looked away from the balcony. Those were bygone days, and rather than whisper promises, the latticework of the railing seemed to laugh at him. Resigned to his unfortunate situation, he began to scan the room for divertissement. Food, drinks, women. Old friends and adversaries, many of whom he had enjoyed fulfilling conversations with on countless occasions. Tonight, he needed something different. He glanced towards the balcony again and allowed his mind to sink into the past while he sipped his drink.

Perchance he ought to fall back to his old habits, for once. Bring a little scandal into his very regular life. He felt colour rise to his cheeks, and the corresponding heat in his loins. He suddenly felt more alive than he remembered feeling for months. Curse the endless worries of governorship, the burdens of responsibility and the thorn in his side that was Director Krennic.

That irresponsible bastard appeared to enjoy himself to his heart content, as always. An entire entourage of insipidly giggling high society women surrounded him. It made sense that the constant attention and potential for drama surrounding them appealed to the infuriating man.

Tarkin turned away, determined to regain his earlier, more pleasant mood. His gaze landed on a graceful twilek, instinctively taking note of her indisputable attractiveness before consciously directing his attention to more appropriate targets. Slowly he went through the hall, making the small talk he usually avoided whenever he could, smiling amicably while he assessed the possibilities with a critical mind.

So many were gathered here tonight. Blondes, brunettes, that slender twilek again – he was not going there –, a dark-haired beauty he remembered from a few years back but who was obviously married now. Not a gentleman’s choice. Come to think of it, everyone was married nowadays, leaving mostly the younger ones that had been sent here by ambitious parents with the hope of ensnaring a suitable spouse for their daughter. Not what he was looking for. Besides, senators’ daughters were so seldom worth the trouble temporary liaisons inevitably caused. No, he’d need to attract someone unremarkable if something was to come of this evening other than a few stirring thoughts. Someone without ties to the senate. Not an innocent who would cling to him afterwards, but someone with a similar wish to his own, a woman who would content herself with a quick tryst without promises of more.

He found a suitable target by the buffet, a flicker of a cream dress in a sea of bright colours, a shameless smile flashed at him over her bare shoulder as she was swallowed by the crowd pouring back into the ballroom after the break. He paused, allowing himself another sip of too sweet sparkling wine before picking up her trail.

***

Her heart started to pound harder the moment she felt his gaze on her. While hoping someone would take note of her flirty prancing, she hadn’t counted on Governor Tarkin being among them. He was one of most senior visitors tonight and not known to mess around, although her mother always spoke of him with a glitter in her eyes that used to make her father sour for days. His expression was stony as always, but he had looked at her as if she had something he wanted, and that he was determined to take. She shivered. If he was indeed available…

But where was he now? Had she lost his interest already? She wanted to feel that gaze on herself again, and then, his hands. He had incredibly long, slender fingers…

Afraid to waste an opportunity, she impatiently looked towards the door. If he didn’t enter the ballroom soon, she’d swallow her pride and go looking for him. The longer she waited, the more she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before, that he’d be the perfect candidate for… for… this. He must be so experienced, he would know exactly how to pleasure a woman.

“This is not a night for wistful thinking. May I have this dance?” The voice made her look up and she took the proffered hand without a second thought.

“Of course, Director Krennic.”

Being this close to him was different from just looking and dreaming. He was so much more intense, almost overwhelming with how his sultry gaze seemed to engulf her, while his lips continued to charm her with sweet nothings. And then she blinked, and he was once more the director she knew… and desired. She smiled, knowing they made a dazzling couple. He lead the dance with confidence, now and then applying daring moves that couldn’t be anticipated, but always making sure to catch her, to guide her back into safety.

“We are good together,” he remarked.

“Yes.” She smiled at him, unsure of how to respond in words. It would be so easy to slip, to admit to the attraction. A glimpse of the Grand Moff, his stern face directed towards a servant with disapproval, distracted her and made her gaze linger on him, too long.

The director’s lips grazing her cheek craved attention, which she reluctantly gave him.

“Whom are you looking at, my sweet? You disappoint me.” His exaggerated pout was adorable, disarming.

“I’m sorry. I should concentrate on the dance. And on you.”

“Indeed. Who managed to steal your attention from me?”

She nodded towards the older officer and saw Krennic’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Tarkin? Seriously?” She nodded again and he shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t get your hopes up there. He’s all shriveled up, haven’t had any life in him for years. Now, I, on the other hand, I could make you feel so good…” She felt his hand wander down to her rear, not in an overtly vulgar way, just with the smallest hint of a caress until it was back on her waist again. _Please, more._

“Thanks for the offer, but no.” She looked at him with more determination than she felt.

“No?” That boyish look of astonishment again. “If it’s really what you want, I’ll introduce you. A lady’s wish is my law.” He flashed a predatory smile. “But promise me this, when he disappoints you, you’ll come to me and I’ll show you what you need.”

His purred words made her tingle all over and she responded quickly, before she could change her mind.

“Yes, please. Introduce me to him, I mean.”

***

Having finally entered, Tarkin scanned the room for her, already beginning to hesitate. Was anything to be gained from pursuing such a young thing, could she truly have the interest in him her smile had promised? He couldn’t stand someone coming to him because of his position, merely looking for possible favours. For what he knew, she could already be putting out for half of the officer corps.

That was when he noticed her, staring at Krennic as if he could fulfill her every dream. He would have preferred not to look at the man, but was reluctant to turn away from the recent addition to his admirers. The initial battle may be lost, but oh how watching her enticed him to win the war. He threw back the remainder of his drink with determination. He was ready.

“Wilhuff, come here,” Krennic called, prancing at his entourage’s obvious admiration for his ability to summon the Grand Moff at his will, and by first name.

“Yes, Orson,” he said tiredly. He still inclined his head politely for the ladies – it wasn’t their fault they didn’t know better than to associate with the director.

“Look at this lovely flower,” Krennic said, taking the young woman’s hand. “Do you know her?”

“I haven’t yet had the pleasure.”

“Ah, I thought so. Well, now you do. She’d like to dance with you.”

He shot a glance at her. She was blushing red, eyeing him shyly. He suddenly felt very old, and very mean. She deserved someone happier.

“I told her it was a ridiculous idea,” Krennic continued. “You never dance. It makes your old bones ache.” He laughed heartily.

The sound grated on his nerves. Who was Krennic to assume what the Grand Moff could and couldn’t do?

“In this, you are correct, Director,” he said icily, smiling when Krennic took a hasty step back. “I leave that part of the entertainment to you. I assure you, however, that there are other activities I engage in most vigorously.”

“Of… of course, Grand Moff.” The man even bowed. Excellent.

“Allow me,” he told the blushing woman and lifted her hand to his lips, noting with satisfaction how she trembled. He slowly pressed his mouth to her skin, so warm and supple. She smelt young, so sweet and flowery. He knew he held her too hard, that his kiss was too presumptuous, and yet, she didn’t complain. Rather, she appeared quite breathless when he slowly let go of her hand. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t do this to her.

“I’m flattered,” he told her truthfully, then made a hasty retreat, lest she notice the state he was in because of her.


	2. The Balcony

As she watched Tarkin leaving, she lifted the hand he had kissed to her own lips, as if a trace of him could be sensed there. None remained, and still she felt weak at the thought of him doing it again. His grip around her fingers had been too hard and his lips had barely brushed against her skin, but there had been mildness and keen interest in his eyes.

Too bad he had fled so quickly, leaving her to the likes of Krennic. She glanced at the Director, who seemed to regain a portion of his confidence with each receding step of the Grand Moff.

“Thank you for introducing us,” she told him earnestly.

“Are you disappointed yet?” Krennic’s voice was down to a purr already, but the mirth in his eyes made her laugh. It was funny how easily he could read her.

“No, and you know it.”

“A man can always hope.” A curvy woman passed by and seemed to drag his gaze with her. His hands clenched almost helplessly and only when she cleared her throat, he returned his attention to her with a sheepish look.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “Go after her.” Shoo.

She leaned back against the wall, lost in thought of what it would be like if she succeeded in inviting Governor Tarkin to her bed. She apparently needed to show him that she wasn’t as shy as she had appeared at first, or her case would be lost.

There he was again, the contours of his sharp profile clearly visible against the backdrop of the wall. He seemed agitated now, talking to someone beside him and quite oblivious to her presence. She adjusted her cleavage, took a glass from a serving droid’s tray, and walked past them with an air of indifference but a studied sway to her hips. By the time she reached the other side of the room, her heart was beating a crazy rhythm in her chest.

***

Tarkin smiled to himself. This was almost too easy, but she had caught his interest and her less than subtle brazenness was rather endearing. Clearly eager, but not too experienced at this game. She had taken up position by a window now, half reclining against the windowsill in a pose that drew attention to her charms, to the obvious enjoyment of more than a dozen old lechers. _Old men, just like him._ As he approached her, cutting through her small group of admirers, he half expected an annoyed father to show up and whisk his errant daughter away.

She was keeping herself occupied with her drink, sending him a smouldering glance as she opened her lips and bit into a succulent piece of fruit. Flattered as he was, he had to stop it, even if he had no right. This particular party was, presumably, safe enough, but if she turned this behaviour into a habit, she would risk more than appearing a fool.

“My lady,” he told her rather admonishingly, then let his gaze drop to the feast laid out before him, dwelling just too long before he looked her in the eye. “Have you no guardian who would restrain such shameless behaviour?”

”Seriously, sir, I am a grown woman since many years.” She looked amused.

“Then you must be aware of the signals you send.” He riveted his eyes on her as he took a sip from his own glass.

“Believe me, I am.” Her nonchalant manner of speaking awakened his ire at the same time as it fuelled his interest.

“Do you always offer yourself so easily, so blatantly making yourself available to anyone’s desires?” Her chin lifted in defiance, her eyes challenging him. “Do you think you can display yourself so wantonly and somehow get away with it?” Still no sign of regret. He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Do you think a man like I would allow himself to be tempted, and then let you go?”

Her shriek took him aback. For a moment, he thought he had gone too far, but then he noticed her staring at Krennic. The man was approaching fast, homing in on her like a beacon.

“Save me,” she said hastily. “I don’t want to dance with him right now.”

“How do you know you’re not getting yourself into worse by remaining with me?”

“The director has a reputation for being a ladies’ man,” she said with a smirk. “You, sir, have not. I wonder why.”

“Don’t mock an old man.”

“I’m not – oh – “

He reluctantly followed her gaze to Krennic, who was now hovering in their proximity as if he desired to interrupt but didn’t quite have the nerve.

“I’m sorry, Director Krennic,” he heard her say candidly before he could choose a suitable phrase from his assortment of venomous utterings for dealing with rivals. “I’m busy at the moment. Perhaps later?”

“Of course, my lady.” The director bowed with a flourish and left with a confident stride, no doubt already with a new target in mind. The fool couldn’t understand defeat when it stared him in the eye.

“Sir…” Her hesitant voice demanded his attention. “You are very handsome still,” she continued, glancing furtively at him as she slowly took his hand. “Your regal profile is simply stunning. And your hands…” The way she bit her lips as she tentatively ran her fingers over his caused his trousers to tighten further.

“I use them for actions of war,” he spat and abruptly snatched his hand back. “To kill and maim and slay.” Lest she have any romantic notions about him.

“Never for… love?”

***

His laugh was a dry, bitter sound that shook her. She took his hand again, admiring the long, sinewy fingers that looked so strong. This time, he let her. On a whim, she put his hand on her chest and held it there. His palm against her flesh, only partly covered by her bodice.

He tensed at first, as if he was going to pull away once more. His eyes closed for a moment, long lashes fluttering against pale cheeks, and then opened with an annoyed flash of steel. “Not in here,” he hissed and pointedly pulled free of her grip, but slowly.

Her heart skipped a beat. He would consider it elsewhere.

“Sir,” she said softly. “I want –“

“You don’t know what is good for you.”

“You are my senior, sir, but not my superior.” _Why couldn’t he just respect her choice?_ “I don’t answer to you.”

His sigh felt like a victory. “So, what is it you think that you want?”

“You.”

“Me?” His fingers went to the bridge of his nose, pinching briefly before he lowered his arm, shaking his head. “I can see you desiring to dance with a high-ranking officer, to swirl around the dance floor and show off. A kiss, perhaps a few caresses for the thrill of danger.”

She nodded enthusiastically, a little hesitation creeping into her as his voice dropped on the last word. This was the Grand Moff, after all, a man known for his ruthlessness. “That is not what it would be like to have me,” he declared with a deadly calm.

“I –”. She hated how her voice faltered. _Courage. Focus._  “I didn’t say I thought I could keep you, sir. I think you prefer to be on your own. Please, don’t laugh at me for daring to want a taste of something –”. She closed the distance between them and laid her cheek against his chest, smiling. In spite of his reputation, he did have a heart.

***

This had to stop before it crossed the line. “I’m cold and bitter,” he told her earnestly, denying the impulse to wrap his arms around her. “Old and gnarled and cynical.”

“Then let me add a dash of sweetness,” she begged. “Wouldn’t you like to be warm, just for tonight?” Her head on his shoulder, her too-honest gaze, filled with admiration and – something much too intimate for the quick tryst she claimed to want. Would she never give up?

“You are destined for disaster,” he told her as he gently peeled her off him. He held her at arm’s length, hands on her shoulders. He meant it, and yet his usual sharp tone came out considerably softer than he intended.

“You make me curious, sir.” She turned coquettishly, freeing herself of his grip and edging closer again. “What would you do if we were alone?” Her flirtations mood appeared to be back, and he suddenly felt drained of resolve. What harm would it be if he gave in?

“I should slap your behind,” he told her, a final warning, “but I would settle for kissing those impertinent lips.”

She giggled, eyes glittering delightfully. “What else?”

”Be not mistaken. With your permission, I have every intention to take advantage of –”

”Me.”

”The opportunity.”

A smile spread across her lips. “I think I’d like that very much. Both these things.” She blushed, but added. “And more. I want you to do a lot more.” Her expression gave little reason to doubt what she had in mind.

”Do you truly wish to be _taken_?” The last word was barely a whisper, but she shivered delightfully at the forbidden thought.

“Sir,” she replied breathlessly, “you know what I want.”

“If you want something from me, you must tell me so.”

“I want you to” – she leaned her lips so close to his ear that her words were almost only a puff of hot air – ”fuck me”.

He twitched with arousal at her crude words, the base language a refreshing contrast to the refined surroundings.

“Such language,” he hissed. He took her arm, speaking in his normal voice. “I believe we should go outside for some air.”

“What an excellent idea,” she replied politely. “It really is stuffy in here.”

Against better judgement, he swept her out of the room on his arm. Walking fast, before he could change his mind.

The nearest balcony turned out to be deserted, maybe due to the lack of lighting. Out here, it was as quiet as it could be in a city, a mixture of music, traffic and voices. She leaned over the railing, peering into the garden below. The white flowers were coloured a vibrantly flashing purple and pink from the city lights around, a decidedly garish effect that positively assaulted the senses.

“Cool,” she remarked, betraying her age. “They’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said, realising it was the truth, not simple flattery. He joined her by the railing and put his arm around her waist.

He recalled another time, countless times on that same balcony blurring together in his memory. So many sweet faces, eager mouths, hands frantically gripping his hair, arms, shoulders as he took his pleasure with them. Truth to be told, had been too afraid to be caught to properly enjoy himself. But now? He chuckled dryly. Anyone daring to intrude on him would be scared witless. This suited him.

They stood in silence, until she spoke.

“You promised me a kiss.”

Surprised she’d want that level of intimacy, he turned towards her and gave her a chaste peck on her forehead.

“Not like that. I said I wanted you. Do you still not believe me?” Her hand trailed boldly over his chest, then further down. He almost choked when she cupped his arousal without preamble.

“Ah – I find that words are sometimes uttered in haste and not entirely sincerely.” He guided her hands back to the railing.

“I am sincere,” she said, staring into the night. “If you don’t want me, then at least hold me. Please.” She sounded devastated, and again, much too young to lust after someone like him. He slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She smelt of some exotic flower. So soft. So hard to resist.

He put his hands on top of hers and his chin on her shoulder. Standing like this, the sight of the colour-changing flowers was almost bearable. Her breathing was shallow, her cheek soft against his. Her hands almost hidden underneath his aging ones. The sparse light was a blessing. They almost looked like they used to, back then. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, knowing he couldn’t capture this moment for eternity any more than the others. This, like all good things, was brief, the happiness it brought ephemeral.

He felt her head shift, and before he properly noticed, she had turned her head and kissed his cheek. Lightly, swiftly, and then she was looking forward again, smiling impishly. This was now. He lifted his hands and slowly dragged his fingertips along her arms, tracing patterns over her bare shoulders, then down her sides. He held her hips, tightly but carefully, and then her right hand was on top of his, guiding it over smooth fabric, down her front. Miraculously, she did not pull away when he started to rub her there, rather she pressed his fingers harder against her core. Her sighs were delightful.

“It would be so easy,” he mumbled into her ear. ”When we’re standing like this, it would be so simple to just pull your dress aside a little.” He pressed the evidence of his arousal against her plump backside, satisfied to find her arching into him, a small gasp betraying her excitement. “A small, swift manoeuvre is all it would take,” he continued, “and I would be inside of you.” He rocked his hips against her. “That is,” his voice more precise now, “as long as you don’t resist.” He let the last word sink into her, the rolled ‘r’ do its work.

“Please,” she whispered. “Do it now or…” Whatever her threat was, it drowned in another moan as she rubbed against him. Ah… she was making him impossibly hard.

In a smooth movement, he brushed the silky material of her gown to the side, turning the high slit towards him. There. He caressed the back of her thighs, nudging them apart when he felt her suddenly tense up. He let go of the fabric and placed a small kiss on the nape of her neck.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Someone is coming. There are people in the garden.”

“A, nothing more alarming?” He gathered up her dress again and resumed his caresses to her backside, while raining kisses on her throat and neck. She was so wet when he delved between her thighs, moaning delightfully as he thrust his finger into her. _Warm.Soft._

“They’ll see us,” she protested weakly as she closed her thighs, trapping his hand.

“What if they do?” He wiggled his fingers and was rewarded with another gasp. “They might hear you sigh and be jealous.”

“Of me getting lucky with you?” She giggled, even while grinding down onto his fingers. “You have no reputation of being boastful – ”

_Don’t make me think about him._ “Don’t be silly, it doesn’t suit you. They will hear you and wonder what I have done to deserve someone so sweet.”

“A great many things, I’m sure. Do that again, please.”

He leaned closer, letting his nose tickle the nape of her neck, and felt her shiver at the touch. “This?”

“Yes.” Her breathing was shallow now. He did it again and she whimpered. She elicited a small moan. What an exquisite creature.

“Don’t worry,” he purred. “All they will see are shadows through latticework, a couple enjoying the stars on a warm night. They will not witness anything inappropriate.”

 “If you say so.”

Her underwear was more bothersome than he had expected, and he ended up just pushing it to the ground. He would finally claim his prize. “Lean over the railing,” he said softly. Just a little, like that. Yes.” He opened his fly and with a discretion born of great practice he slid into her cunt. Already clenching around him, the little minx!

He bit back a moan and forced himself to rock gently against her in shallow little thrusts so terribly unsatisfying. She was less discreet, but quiet enough to not draw attention to them. A handful of people came into view below, talking and laughing, seemingly oblivious to the couple above.

He fucked her harder, a sense of urgency coming over him, and eventually she lifted her head, straightening her arms, and let out a long, keening sound.

He aimed the next powerful thrusts well and snuck a hand around to press her little nub. She bucked against his hand, then gasped and, shuddering, slumped against the railing, head on her hands. Just two… one… more thrusts and he was there as well, stifling the barest hint of a groan.

“Well done,” he whispered in her ear as he raised her up to lean against him. Her head lolled back against his chest, her gaze still dreamy.

A man below lifted his hand in a salute, grinning. Someone had enjoyed the show. It was of no significance now. He stroked the hair of his paramour, finding a sheen of sweat on her forehead that no doubt matched his own.

“Governor Tarkin, she said softly, “when can we do this again?”

“Is the balcony a necessary element?” He smirked.

“It was silly to worry about being seen. I know. I’ll try to be braver.” She quietened for a moment, then added with a defiance that stroke a discordant note with her satiated expression. “I’m not ashamed.”

“No? If you are unconcerned to be seen leaving with me, I believe another opportunity will present itself as this evening concludes.”

She grinned. “I’ll go dance, then. But don’t try to slip away without me.”

“I promise.” He sighed. Today’s youth. Such cheek.

As they left the balcony, he turned his head to admire the latticework. It was familiar again, once again an ally.

It wasn’t exactly that he didn’t trust her, but somehow, he hadn’t expected to find her in Krennic’s arms again. Nor to find himself sitting next to a formidably dressed senator who offered him a drink accompanied with a hearty smile.

“A handsome couple,” she remarked. “They look good together.”

He hummed something non-descript, ashamed with how much that remark disturbed him. It was true, after all. It was not the aesthetics that displeased him.

“Don’t worry,” the senator said with a conspiratorial smile and light touch to his arm. “I’ve seen how she looks at you when he doesn’t notice. Besides, Orson is coming home with me tonight.”

She laughed at what must be his startled expression.

He spent the rest of the evening eagerly following his lover with his eyes, watching her dance and laugh with many a handsome officer. But it was him she winked at. If only they knew.


	3. The Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball draws to an end, and couples go their separate ways. Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people kindly expressed their interest in seeing a bit more of these two together, and I discovered that I really wouldn't mind that either, so, here's the continuation. There will be one more chapter after this.
> 
> @Laivaaja - if you read this, you will notice that I borrowed the name of my OC senator from your young sergeant. I didn't immediately realize where it came from, and when I did, I couldn't come up with anything else that seemed to fit. I altered the spelling a bit, but still feel I should acknowledge you. (and, readers, if you're interested in great Star Wars comics, have a look at Laivaaja's creations)!

She danced until she lost track of time. The giddiness filling her head required an outlet and she found it in crazy twirls and quick feet. Each time she was coming back to normal, a glance at the thin man in the chair at the back of the room elated her spirits again and the low thrumming between her thighs began anew. She had bedded Governor Tarkin, and he wanted to do it again! This handsome gentleman with his impeccable manners and stern façade had held her, kissed her – _fucked her_ – and it was all she had imagined and more. This night was already perfect.

But what was that? Senator Belaani was still sitting with him, chatting like they were old friends. They were drinking, too, lifting their glasses in a toast to something, and the senator’s shameless cleavage was much closer to him than was decent. Admittedly, she used the same trick herself, just hours earlier, in an attempt to catch his attention. But this was different, wasn’t it? This woman was older and ought to know better. The senator was also more confident and an infinitely more fitting match for the Grand Moff.

Perhaps she ought to just leave them alone, slip off quietly with, or, rather, without her present dance partner and be forever content with the memories Tarkin had already given her.

That balcony. She would never forget how the railing felt under her hands as he rocked into her from behind, how the city lights seemed to blink in cadence with his thrusts. His hands, long slender fingers on top of hers, and how his breathing quickened until he found release with a subdued grunt. That _sound_. Just glancing at the door, now fully ajar, made her tingle and long for _something_.

She realized her mistake too late, pulling back as if burnt at the feeling of her cadet cavalier’s thigh against her core. His look of delight was entirely understandable, and wholly unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m a little unsteady, must have had too much to drink.”

“Let’s go outside.” He tilted his head towards the door. _Never._

“Thanks, but I’ll just sit down for a minute.” In a sudden need to get away from him fast, she hurried towards the crowd by the buffet. A misstep made her stumble, and she grabbed at the nearest support available. The arm she caught was very steady, and the uniform tunic covering it very white. Black gloves. She looked up. Brown hair dashingly speckled with grey. Devastatingly innocent blue eyes. She smiled.

Director Krennic chuckled. “I thought you’d come back to me, but not in such a hurry.”

“I – it’s not what it seems. I didn’t mean to fling myself at you like this. I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy.” She sank down on a chair, while he remained standing.

“No worries. I know you slipped. Maybe another time?”

She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Maybe. And thanks.” She followed his hypnotically billowing cape as he moved in the direction of the Grand Moff and the senator. How curious. Although Tarkin and Krennic were clearly old acquaintances, maybe even colleagues, she wouldn’t have pinned them as friends. But it was the senator’s hand he took, kissing it lavishly until the woman stood, and then – the mere audacity of it made her sober up momentarily – he buried his face in her ample bosom. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but when he looked up again they were both flushed, both chuckling happily, and then they were off, together. Destined for a happy continuation of the night in some more private setting. If only she was as confident.

She could be. Swallowing, she stood, straightened her back and approached the Grand Moff, who was now alone and just in the process of hiding a yawn, and not quite succeeding to. He must be ready to leave any moment. And he would do so with her…

“Governor, you haven’t forgotten about me, I hope?”

“How could I?” Was that only politeness in his voice, or more? He stood and took her hand in his, holding it too gently for there to be any passion. “It pleases me to see that you have enjoyed this evening. I could not have kept up with you on the dance floor.”

“I – “

“I can see you are ready to retire for the night. I have kept my promise to remain here, although you do not seem to need an escort. I wish you a good night. And,” he added like an afterthought, “thank you. For reminding me of times when I was more – alive.” He let go of her hand and gave her a small bow, the perfect, polite farewell.

This was disastrous. “No,” she said, taking his hand between his, “you misunderstand me. You promised me something else, that we would leave together, and – ” Boldness failed her, and she glanced towards the balcony again, then saw him turn his head likewise.

Understanding hit him and his eyebrows flew towards his hairline. “You would continue to grace an old man with your favours?”

She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice before she spoke. “I’m still wet.”

***

Tarkin squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. How could the dear little slut say such a thing so innocently, and in public at that? Yet her expression was honest, betraying nothing of the coyness he was used to encounter at gatherings like these.

“Please?” There is was again, that voice, that tone that tugged at his heartstrings just as much as it annoyed him. “I want –”

“You don’t know what you want.” As soon as the words were out he had the distinct feeling of déja vu. They had been through this already, repeating old truths, half-truths, white lies. “Let me correct myself. I do know what you want.” He might as well admit it. “We leave, now, before we will both regret it.”

He was not prepared for her squeal of delight. “Thank you so much! Governor.” Her exaggerated curtsey was laughable under the circumstances and he quickly offered her his arm. Whatever indecencies would follow, they must at least retire with dignity. He couldn’t deny that it stroked his ego to slowly stride towards the exit with a beauty on his arm, the more when she was his junior by decades. A pity the director had already left, but no doubt he would be reached by the gossip later. An acceptable solution.

They were quiet in the transport. She held his hand in hers in a firm grip as if truly reluctant to let him go, in her lap, far too close to the alleged dampness between her legs. He had to take her word for it, unable to feel anything but soft fabric against his skin, but the thought was intoxicating. No doubt, remnants of his seed were still inside of her, a secret seal that bound her to him this night, regardless of how many others she had danced with. Her flesh was pliant underneath, giving way to his finger at the slightest pressure as he let it glide slowly until he found the spot that made her part her lips in a silent moan. He pressed again, smirking at the result. Such sweetness made available to him, wholly undeserved.

In his rented rooms, they were strangers again. “Please, enter,” he said politely, allowing her to cross the threshold first. “Allow me to take your coat.” Then what? More drinks? Music? What does one talk about with a woman who shouldn’t be alone with him in the first place?

***

“Is the bedroom through here?” She had felt triumphant parading through the assembly hall with him, now and then casting a glance at his serene face with its elegant nose and sharp cheekbones, and then sinfully divine while travelling with him. The darkness had not completely obscured the outline of him straining against the front of his uniform trousers. Now, finally here, she wasn’t going to be dismayed by his return to impersonal politeness.

He seemed taken aback by the question, enough that she could slip by him, through the sitting room to the door at the other side of it, before he replied.

“Indeed.” He still sounded unmoved.

She peered into the semi-darkness of the room, which was small but equipped with a comfortably looking bed. He came up behind her, although keeping his distance. She turned her head over her shoulder and smiled. Yes. He took a step closer, and then his hands were on her hips. They glided slowly up and down the silky fabric and it was all that was needed for her face to heat again. Those hands.

“May I?” His hands were gliding lower now, to her thighs, bum, ah. She thrust it into his palms. A quick squeeze, and then his pale fingers were on her hips again. “What do you say?” There was no hint of urgency in his voice, but a little sharpness that put her on her toes.

“Of course.” If you don’t undress me now I’ll do it myself.

He pulled the dress over her head, mussing her hair. She must look dreadful.

“So beautiful.” His voice was reverent, just like his fingers as they began their exploration of the new territory. Up along her sides, to her front, thumbs teasing her nipples, then unfastening her bra. As it fell to the floor, she marvelled at the feeling of the new support offered, how softly he cupped her, weighed her breasts, caressed them with his thumbs. His lips against her neck, equally soft, made her squirm and rub her bottom against his crotch. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath, almost a hiss. She wanted to touch him, too.

“Please, can we…?” She turned in his embrace, his uniform feeling coarse against her near-naked body.

“Naturally, my sweet.” He backed her towards the bed until she had to sit down. As he removed his trousers and socks, she took the opportunity to rid herself of her panties. He stood between her open legs, still wearing his tunic. She closed her arms around the small of his back. The rank plate pressed uncomfortably against her forehead, but she couldn’t care less. She lowered her head, eager to kiss his flat stomach and then, if he’d let her, take him into her mouth. Another gasp, fingers in her hair, caressing, then suddenly tugging hard.

***

He had to stop her. There were limits to how young he cared to feel, and being returned to his overeager teen years was not something he’d tolerate. Not now. It was hard enough to restrain his motions without her ah – attempting to swallow him. Fisting the hair at her neck made her see reason and allowed him the moment of reprieve needed to collect himself. He let go quickly, worried he might have been too harsh, but her lust-filled gaze showed no sign of distress.

“Lay back,” he told her softly. Ah, the sight of her, her bent knees falling apart, opening for him so naturally. He knelt between them and covered her body with his. So soft. So young and sweet and supple. Rounded cheeks, flushed a delightful pink. Her arms came up around his neck, holding on to his shoulders. She pressed her hips up against him. So ready.

“Now,” she said. “Please, now.”

He lifted his eyebrows and was rewarded with a whimper. Leaning onto his left elbow, he gripped the base of his cock between his fingers and guided himself into her. Still pinching, he sank into her with a sigh – wet warm soft supple aaah – and held himself still until he felt confident he wouldn’t spill immediately. Ignoring her soft moans was the hardest part. Simply the knowledge that these sounds were because of him was nearly enough. _Such eagerness_.

Removing his hand, he sank into her fully, enjoying the slick snugness that enveloped him. Then his hips began to move, requiring no conscious thought from his part. He quit suppressing his groans – what did it matter – and concentrated on the feeling of her legs closing around his waist, her eager bucking against him, meeting every thrust, her fingers clawing helplessly against his shoulders. He should have removed his tunic. _His imperfections would have scared her off_.

Her hands were on the small of his back now, then on his buttocks – the nerve! – and she pressed up against him, her bent knees almost met her shoulders, she was lifting her ass and there was only the slapping sound of their bodies and the engulfing wet heat and her keening cries and he – had – to – slow – down. There. A second, two, three to calm his madly beating heart and stave off imminent release. Not yet. Make. It. Last. 

He began to drag out slowly, then pound into her with a vigorous snap of his pelvis, and she gave a delightful little moan at each quick entry. He held still now and then, panting as discreetly as he could, then resumed. So much pleasure to be found in her impatient, complaining little whines. He would never tire of it, of seeing her like this, writhing to take him deeper when he denied her, pressing up against him in earnest despair. For him. He controlled her pleasure, giving it to her when it suited him. Like now. Very much now.

“Come for me,” he hissed. “Come, now.”

Two more thrusts were all it took, for her to shiver and clench, her eyes squeezing shut. And then, when he was coming down from his peak and watched her face through sated haze, she opened her eyes and a strange feeling washed over him. At first, she stared at him, keeping her gaze locked with his – which was surprisingly pleasant – and then a smile spread over her lips. She lifted her head and kissed him, swiftly, before he could react. Softness again, all that softness beneath him. Altogether inappropriate. How could he think he could keep her, even just for the night? He stiffened, then detached himself from her and laid down beside her. Only for a minute, while sated contentedness still warmed his limbs.

He must have fallen asleep, then been waked by those soft lips on his cheek. She was standing beside the bed, dressed already.

 “I should leave,” she said. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I had so much fun at the ball. And this…” She gestured, at him, the bed, he didn’t know, and blushed prettily as she did. “You. You know… it was very good.”

What was? The sex? Her responses had already told him he had performed adequately. “The pleasure was all mine.” The polite thing to say. Mind-blowing was closer to the truth.

“And mine. But okay, thanks again, and bye. I really must go.”

He cleared his throat. “Ah, indeed. Yes. Of course.” She was correct – their business, although pleasurable, was concluded and the connection should be severed with a clean cut. There was no reason to linger, no logical cause for her to stay. He wanted her to. Not a valid argument. “But, hm, where are you going? I cannot let you travel at this hour, in this weather.” He couldn’t fool himself. Pathetic.

“I’ll be fine.”

One glance outside the door, then at her in her sheer dress and thin jacket. No.

“It would be far from me to patronise you, but would you accept being my guest until daybreak?” Hesitation was obvious on her face. “On the sofa, of course.” Her uneasy smile told him he had been correct to assume she wouldn’t want to return to his bed.

Sleep would not come. He was a light sleeper these days, but this was bad. He should be content with what he’d gotten. Twice, Wilhuff. He’d succeeded not only in seducing this young woman at the ball, but lured her to his bed and had her again. On her back, moaning gloriously, lusting after him. Physically, he was well and thoroughly sated. He could not possibly offer her another round. So why wasn’t it enough?

He could almost hear her through the wall, sleeping soundly, little puffs of air coming through her half-open mouth, her full lips… Not a care in the world, soon to be returned to her safe and ordinary life, far from the likes of him. She had graced him with a moment’s attention and for that, he ought to be happy. Grateful. He was no bloody youngling!

***

Sha lay on his sofa – was it even his – feeling like another one of his temporary belongings. Nothing in this flat was real, nothing was personal or gave any indication of his tastes. All borrowed, to be used and then abandoned. She turned towards the cushions.

Why did this bother her? She had set out for a one-nighter, and she’d gotten it. The evening had played out precisely like she had planned it, only better. All the dancing with pretty boys. Krennic’s dashing appearance and his very satisfying disappointment when she chose another. The balcony, ah, the balcony. She would forever blush when she visited that building. The surprised glances when she had left the ball together with the Grand Moff. And the transport, how he had fondled her discreetly while not letting anything show on his face. Governor Tarkin was so delightfully dirty beneath that cool, collected surface. Always on top, whatever the circumstances. And he had chosen her. Of all the women present, he had chosen her. He had invited her to his home and she’d had him again and it had been fabulous.

There was absolutely no reason to feel this miserable. None. Even if he’d kept his tunic on as a reminder of the distance between them and their uneven status. Still, the immense power he wielded was one of the thrills of being with him. He was very handsome, too. Nose, cheekbones, the little hollow between his eyebrows that she hadn’t got the opportunity to kiss. And intelligent. The difference between the ruthless professional and the kind gentleman was intriguing.

If only this wretched night was over so she could leave, run, be safe from herself. She hated clingy women. It was so undignified, so humiliating to remain with a man when he had clearly moved on.


	4. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Even in the morning, Grand Moff Tarkin looked impeccable in her eyes. Not a hair out of place, not a crease in the grey shirt he was wearing in lieu of his tunic. The slightly looser fit flattered his lean shape. Straight, greenish-grey trousers. Even the slippers looked elegant on him. Her gaze went to her own feet, their bare state suddenly feeling indecent. Way too much familiarity for this brief acquaintanceship.

He cleared his throat. “Ahem. I do not usually have breakfast guests and I’m afraid my stores have very little to offer you.”

“It’s all right. I don’t eat a lot in the morning.” It was a lie, but damn it if she was going to make him uncomfortable. She’d soon be on her way, and a luxurious hotel brunch with lots of sweets was just what she needed to glue the shards of her silly heart together.

“We are similar in that way, then.” He flicked a switch on a panel and retrieved a jar from a cupboard. “Perhaps I may interest you in a cup of tea?” Her eyes shot to the jar with surprise. “I prefer to brew it the traditional way. An old man is allowed a peculiarity or two, don’t you think?”

“Oh, of course. I must seem very provincial to you, I’ve just never seen it before.” No caf. How would she survive even the minutes until she could leave? She watched his hand prepare the tea, and how he pursed his lips while pouring the desired amount of muck – dried and fermented leaves, she wasn’t a complete savage – into a metal mesh, that then went into a pot. She followed his movements closely and realised the answer was as simple as that. Simply watching him perform some minor, mundane task, was all the nourishment she needed to sustain her.

At least until her stomach growled. His eyebrows shot up and he eyed her with that suspicious gaze that made her want to confess even the time she stole her sister’s school book back when she was seven.

“Yesterday was quite energy-consuming,” he remarked, quite casually. Her cheeks heated anyway. “Perhaps you ought to forego your habit today.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I won’t intrude on your hospitality for long.” _Please take me away from here before I beg you to fuck me again._

“I didn’t mean to send you on your way. There should be something edible around here.” He poked around in the cupboard and took out two packages. “Hard bread and powdered egg protein. Not a lot to offer a lady, I’m afraid.”

Then she remembered. “I have something, too. In my purse.” She went to fetch the bar she always brought to dances and usually consumed on the way home. Yesterday, she had been occupied with even sweeter things. Like, his skilful fingers between her thighs…

“Enlighten me,” he said when she showed him the package. “Now it’s you who have me at a disadvantage.”

She smiled, the very idea of the almighty Grand Moff Tarkin even a little not in control was funny. “It’s an energy bar. Cereals and fruit pressed together with some sort of fat. The real ones have dried fruit, this one is just freeze-dried.” She shrugged. “They’re cheaper. And lighter.”

“The wonders of modern technology.” The dryness of his voice paired with his slightly amused look made her smile again.

“You’re not impressed.”

He was staring into the distance, his thoughts obviously occupied elsewhere. His answer came just a second too late. “Not particularly, no. But let’s not devote this morning to the failures of engineering.”

***

He’d rather look at her. A loud ping made her check her purse again, and then she cursed her datapad vividly enough to call him into the hall.

“Such colourful language. Whatever is the matter?” She looked so distraught that he momentarily discarded his initial theory of a cancelled shopping round with a friend or some other nonsense.

“I – I can’t get home! Look!”

He took the device before she dropped it. Indeed. The newsfeed was rather upsetting. Storm approaching… great magnitude… strongly advised to remain indoors… all transport cancelled for the next ten hours, at least. No wonder she looked so crestfallen, then. The prospect of having to spend the rest of the day _and quite possibly another night_ in his company was clearly disastrous to her.

He looked at her, a loud sob wrecking her at that precise moment. Unwanted or not, he must try to comfort her. He slipped the datapad back into her purse and awkwardly patted her back. That was all it took for her to bury her face against his chest.

“I realize these prospects are not appealing to you, but I assure you that you are welcome to remain here for as long as necessary.”

Another sob. _She should have gone with some merry lieutenant instead._

“Tha – thank you. It’s very kind of you. I’m sorry for behaving like this. It’s just – I’m such a mess and here I come barging into your day, you must have work to do and all.”

She hugged him so tight, almost as if she didn’t mind this proximity to him at all. Her hair against his cheek was so soft, and when he ran his hands over her shoulders, she seemed to take comfort in that and press even harder against his chest. Did she say something? About work?

“Ahem. Indeed, I had planned to go over a couple of things, but I don’t believe your presence will prove too disruptive.”

She let go of him and started dabbing at her eyes. “I will do my best not to disturb you.”

“Good. That is settled then.”

Unorthodox footwear habits aside, she fit surprisingly well into his quiet everyday life.

She sat quietly with her datapad in the sofa, and although it did annoy him a little to see her put her feet up on the cushions, this slight infraction was relatively easy to forgive. Seeing her whenever he looked up from his work was rather pleasant and when she needed to move, she did so in an unobtrusive way. Her taste in music was not entirely repugnant, and by the time evening came, she could even brew passable tea.

“Thank you for preparing dinner. I find I have gotten even more done today than what I planned.”

“You’re welcome. After all, I have to thank my host in some way.”

He eyed her closely. What was that? Merely idle pleasantries, or did she aim to express more? Had she winked at him? He decided to ignore it for now and put away the dishes. If indeed she meant to indicate what he dared not hope for, there would be plenty of time to explore the depths of her interest.

“I need a drink,” she declared when he returned. She looked truly famished eyeing him, almost as desperate for a touch as he was beginning to feel. A drink was all she had asked for, though, not his suddenly over-active imagination. He poured a glass of whisky for her and another for himself.

“This is what the house has to offer.” He handed her a glass, then took a sip from his own. Excellent.

“Uh… thank you.” She examined the contents of the glass with some curiosity, and after smelling it and frowning – in a rather endearing way – gulped it down.

“Careful. It’s rather… potent.”

“Too late.” She made another face, shuddering. “It warms nicely. Come give me a kiss.”

He quirked an eyebrow and cautiously took another sip from his glass.  

“Governor? Don’t say I’m mistaken.”

“You are not.”

“’cause I’ve been fighting myself all day not to ask you to bend me over some piece of furniture… uh, forgive my directness...”

His grip around the glass tightened, and even doing so with both hands wouldn’t prevent the cursed thing from shaking.

She threw back her head laughing as she leaned back further into the sofa and uncrossed her legs. “See, I thought this morning that we were through, that you had lost interest in me, but you’ve been so nice all day.” She winked. “And I think I felt something.”

He flinched. Felt what? He hadn’t been near her since morning, and if his anatomy was misbehaving it was clearly not by any conscious act of will.

“Come kiss me now, Governor Tarkin.”

_Dear, lovely woman, if only you knew how much I want to do just that._ He took another sip. “I might, if you quit addressing me so formally.”

“It kills the mood for you? Who’d have thought?” She laughed again, a mocking, silly sound that was beneath this lovely being. It needed to cease.

She immediately leaned into the kiss, her lips meeting his hungrily. He tried to keep it light, slow, and she was having none of it. She was in his lap, raining small kisses over his face while she ground against him quite shamelessly, and the next second, as he caressed her perfect breasts she babbled silly, wonderful, impossible things while tugging at his hair.

It didn’t matter. The details of it were of no consequence. As long as he could hold her. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the feeling of soft tits against his face, and her lovely ass in his hands. If she wanted more, ah, if she wanted it he would give it to her. And if not, he would be content to sit like this, hands full of her. Just a little longer.

“Please.” Only one word, just a throaty whisper, but what a sweet order.

“Yes?” He took pride in sounding unperturbed even under current circumstances. Mind over matter. Action later. Soon. Now – concentration. “What can I do for you?”  

 “You are the perfect gentleman.” She lowered her voice. “I want to see all of you. Show me the beast within.”

“There are sides of me that I don’t usually display. I have good reason for this.”

“Blood and murder, yes, I remember. War. Got it. I’m not asking for anything that sinister. But if you could be just a little… forceful… that would be so hot. Hmm?” She ground down onto him again, and he gripped her hips, bucking up against her, hard. Just once.

“Please. I’m yours.” He rose abruptly with her in his lap and no other thought than to get her onto the bed. She moaned as he half carried, half dragged her into the bedroom and threw her onto the mattress. Faster than lightning, she had undressed and turned her back on him, and shot him a seductive glance over her shoulder. Just like last night, but on her knees now. Legs open, inviting him. Rough, she said. He gripped her neck and pushed her face into the mattress. She had the audacity to wiggle her arse at him.

Swearing to himself, he got rid of his clothes. He was tired of resisting. A growl escaped his lips as he pushed into her, then thrust twice before even thinking to consider her response.

“Is this harsh enough for you?”

“I want more.” It was an invitation if he ever heard one. He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and stood on his feet behind her. This angle… He pushed in again and she arched her back, pushing herself up onto her arms. He collected her wrists and pressed them against the small of her back with one hand, while pushing her shoulders down with the other. She moaned delightfully with each thrust.

“Good?”

“Yesss…no. Never!”

There was that taunting tone again. Nothing was good enough, nothing would satisfy her. This frustration and he chose to let it out, a sliver of it, and she didn’t budge. A little more and she claimed to crave it. He smacked her arse and fisted her hair and pulled, wrecking her with vicious thrusts until they both came. Not a sound came over her lips, until he let go of her, and then she whimpered.

“I apologize.” He ran his fingers lightly over her flank, suddenly wanting to take back all of that forcefulness. Gentle caresses was all he wanted to give her.

“Don’t. That was so hot. Thank you for showing me.”

She turned onto her back and although her eyes were suspiciously moist, the smile that tugged at her lips seemed genuine enough. A weight lifted from his chest.

_Foolish woman._ “I could have – “

“I knew I could trust you.”

_Your faith is greater than mine._ “Stay with me tonight.”

“It’s not like I could leave.”

“You know what I mean.” _Agree before I change my mind._

“No sleeping on the sofa.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She stretched like a kitten and then curled up, stealing most of the blanket. “Goodnight and sleep well.”

He didn’t. The presence of another body so close was unfamiliar, and took a confused, worried moment to get used to each time he woke from his half-slumber. It didn’t matter. He felt strangely at peace as he listened to her breathing, and when she slept soundly, he crept closer, resting his head against her, listening to the even beat of her heart. Even asleep, she made him feel alive.

***

His brief display of brutality affected her a lot more than she let show. Even now her heart was pounding hard, and there was a cold lump in her stomach that refused to go away completely, even if it diminished with every soft caress of his fingertips along her arm.

What a stupid, stupid thing to ask for. Even if she didn’t know him very well, she had heard the stories. Hunter. Soldier. Survivor. He could have broken her, harmed her. _If I’m with you, it doesn’t matter if I’m whole or broken._ What a childishly dramatic thing to say, and a relief to know she hadn’t. She could not possibly love him already, but the possibility was there, a glimmering crystal in everyday life’s mundanity. She could very well come to love him a lot, with time. Only, they had none. Tomorrow would come, and all she had was now. This moment of lying beside him, counting his breaths, fighting sleep and sensing how defeat was closing in, wrapping her in soft darkness.

She woke at some time during the night and just had to tell him how she felt, whether he’d hear it or not. “I want to stay with you,” she whispered into his chest. “Always.”

The lights flickered on. His face filled her vision, beautiful to her even now, so tired.

“There is no future for us.” His voice was solemn, honest. “You should find yourself a younger man, someone you can start a family with when the right time comes.”

A lecture. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered. _Let me sleep._

“You would become bitter and begin to resent me for limiting your life.”

“I would still have time for all that.” _After._ There was no need to continue, she could see from the agony in his eyes that he understood.

As soon as the lights were out, she clung to him, eventually falling asleep.

He was still there in the morning. Resting beside her, pale in the bleak morning light. One thin arm was on top of the blanket, blue veins and bone clearly discernible under skin like flimsi. An image of human frailty, and yet he was so strong. She carefully pushed the blanket down a little to reveal his chest. Grey hairs, old scars in abundance. A few recent scrape marks on his shoulders. She smiled, and placed a gentle kiss on his hollow stomach. The skin there rippled slightly, and in the corner of her eye she saw his hand clench into a fist around the sheet. With the tip of a finger she followed the trail of hairs from his navel, pausing at the edge of the sheet. The fabric was elevated considerably.

His eyes remained closed and it was too tempting not to tease him. She followed the outline of him with her finger, and then, her mouth.

“Uh.” The guttural sound that came from him as he spasmed was delightful. She did it again, took him into her mouth, ignoring the wet fabric against her tongue and concentrating on the feel of him underneath. Hot, hard beneath an outer layer of softer tissue. He was pushing up against her now, deceptively thin hips lifting effortlessly from the mattress despite her playful attempts to hold him down.

“Uuuhh.”

“Do you like it when I trail my hair over your chest?” She made her voice innocent.

The hand that caught it loosely sent shivers down her spine.

“I’d rather have it be your tits.” His voice was ragged, and his unusually candid words went straight to her core.

“Like this?” She made sure to hold herself just so that only her peaked nipples touched his skin. “Can you feel it?” He opened one eye and lifted his head from the pillow. “All puckered up, because of you.”

“You are unreal.” That smile. Even his teeth were beautiful. As were the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Just wait. No, let go of me. Relax.” His hand left her neck and he sank back onto the pillow.

She resumed her earlier explorations of the sheet and its hidden treasures. Slowly, she peeled it down, letting it drag along his length slowly being revealed to her. Unlike the rest of him, it was fleshy and rounded, the blunt head considerably thicker than the shaft.

It fit perfectly into her mouth. The texture, the size, the saltiness… the sounds he was making. She wanted this to never stop, and still, she wanted more, and devouring him was heavenly, and his hands in her hair, tugging and then more frantically – oh. “You need a pause.” She wiped the saliva from her lips.

“Indeed.” How could he sound so cool, when she was so excited?

 “Make love to me. Please.”

“I believe I can be persuaded.” She could smack him for the mirth in his voice.

She straddled his hips and the way the base of his cock pressed against her made her let out a small sound. He put his large hands on her thighs, so gently, quite the opposite from the night before and just as hot.

“Take it,” he encouraged. “Put it in.”

He made it sound like the lewdest suggestion and she felt herself blush as she took him into her hand.

A few unsuccessful attempts, and then she sank down upon him with a shiver of delight.

 “Faster,” he instructed.

“Make me.”

“As you please.”

His fingers found her clit and ah whatever she had planned she found herself quite unable to control her pace at all. Her hips bucked against his fingers on their own volition, and he was thrusting into her from below, and oh his lips latched onto a nipple and –

white light blood pounding laughter freedom safe happy l –

She refused to tell him aloud what her heart was full of.

***

“There is no balcony,” he heard himself say apologetically as they stood by the front door. She was leaving. He knew where this conversation was going and how inappropriate it was of him to continue, but all the same he was unwilling to stop himself. “These are just rooms I use whenever my service to the Empire requires me to spend time in this city.” She nodded, much too understanding. If she would say something, there would still be a chance to stop this.

Silence. He must go on, then.

“It would please me if you would sometimes like to spend time here as well.”

No answer. He winced, then quickly collected himself. Disappointment is a sign of weakness.

“Ah well, it was just a thought. No doubt you have a busy schedule and plenty of ways to entertain yourself. Anyway – “

He stopped mid-sentence. What was that sound? But – she was weeping. Softly, nigh inaudibly, tears were dropping from her face onto her cloak. Dread struck him.

“Have – have I hurt you in some way? Sweet girl, tell me, what have I done?”

She swallowed audibly, then directed huge, tear-filled eyes at him. The ghost of a smile began to spread over her lips, leaving him dumb-funded.

“Governor,” she said. “Wilhuff?” He nodded. “I’m just so happy.”

“Happy? You are crying.”

“I know. I’m silly, I said it before. But I’m happy. I want – ” This time, he was careful not to interrupt her. “I want that very much. To be here, with you. When you can.”

He cupped her tear-streaked face and kissed her soundly on the mouth. He very much wanted to tell her the truth, that he could probably remain for at least another couple of hours. They could talk, fuck, exist together some more. It would have been too much of an indulgence, however. With time, he might come to tell her many truths. For now, one would have to suffice. He looked at his chrono, casually set it to countdown and noted with satisfaction how fast the seconds passed by.

“Two standard weeks from now.” _Or rather, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty seconds. Forty. Thirty._

He kissed her again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. This is the end of this story, even if it would be fun to play more with them at some point. 
> 
> This turned out very differently from how I'd planned it - it should only have been a quick thryst, not all these feelings happening. Not the domestic small-talk. That aside, I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. Soft Tarkin and all. I hope you enjoyed reading <3
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/perfecttimemachinestranger)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are very welcome :)


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